THE SOLDIER'S RETURN.

229 How blythely wad I hide the stoure, | I left the lines and tented field, A weary slave frae sun to sun,

Where lang I'd been a lodger, Could I the rich reward secure,

My humble knapsack a' my wealth, The lovely Mary Morison.

A poor but honest sodger. Yestreen when to the trembling string, A leal, light heart was in my breast,

The dance gaed thro' the lighted ha', My hand unstain'd wi' plunder: To thee my fancy took its wing,

And for fair Scotia, hame again,
I sat, but neither heard nor saw.

I cheery on did wander.
Tho' this was fair, and that was braw, I thonght upon the banks o' Coil,
And yon the toast of a' the town,

I thought upon my Nancy;
I sigh'd, and said amang them a'

I thought upon the witching smile “Ye are na Mary Morison.”

That caught my youthful fancy.
Oh Mary, canst thou wreck his peace, At length I reach'd the bonnie glen
Wha for thy sake wad gladly die ?

Where early life I sported;
Or canst thou break that heart of his, I pass'd the mill, and trysting thorn,
Whase only faut is loving thee?

Where Nancy aft I courted:
If love for love thou wilt na gie,

Wha spied I but my ain dear maid At least be pity to me shown;

Down by her mother's dwelling! A thought ungentle canna be

And turn'd me round to hide the flood The thought o' Mary Morison.

That in my een was swelling.
Wi’ alter'd voice, quoth I, “Sweet lass,

Sweet as yon hawthorn's blossom,

Oh! happy, happy may he be,
Wandering Willie.

That's dearest to thy bosom !

My purse is light, I've far to gang, HERE awa, there awa, wandering Willie,

And fain would be thy lodger; Here awa, there awa, haud awa hame; I've served my king and country langCome to my bosom, my ain only dearie,

Take pity on a sodger!” Tell me thou bring'st me my Willie the same.

Sae wistfully she gaz'd on me, Winter-winds blew loud and cauld at our And lovelier was than ever ; partins,

Quo' she, “ A sodger ance I loe'ch.
Fears for my Willie brought tears in my ee; Forget him shall I never :
Welcome now simmer and welcome my Our humble cot and hamely fare
Willie,

Ye freely shall partake o't;
The simmer to nature, my Willie to me. That gallant badge, the dear cockade,
Rest, ye wild storms, in the cave of your

Ye're welcome for the sake o't. slumbers,

She gaz'd-she redden'd like a rose-
How your dread howling a lover alarms! Syne pale like ony lily;
Wauken, ye breezes! row gently, ye billows! She sank within my arms, and cried.
And waft my dear laddie ance mair to my "Art thou my ain dear Willie ?”
arms!

“By Him who made yon sun and sky,

By whom true love's regarded, But oh, if he's faithless, and minds na his

I am the man; and thus may still Nannie,

True lovers be rewarded. Flow still between us thou wide-roaring main! May I never see it, may I never trow it, The wars are o'er, and I'm come hame, But, dying, believe that my Willie's my ain! And find thee still true-hearted !

Tho' poor in gear, we're rich in love,

And mair we're ne'er be parted.”'

Quo' she, “My grandsire left me gowd, The Soldier's Refnri. (360)

A mailen plenish'd fairly;

And come, my faithfu' sodger lad,
Air-The mill, mill O.

Thou’rt welcome to it dearly."
When wild war's deadly blast was blawn, For gold the merchant ploughs the main,
And gentle peace returning,

The farmer ploughs the manor; Wi' mony a sweet babe fatherless,

But glory is the sodger's prize, And mouy a widow mourning :

The sodger's wealth is honour.

ADOWN WINDING NITI I DID WANDER.

231

And now she works her mammie's wark, | Cauld is the blast upon ny pale cheek,

And aye she sighs wi' care and pain; But caulder thy love for me, oh; Yet wist na what her ail might be,

The frost that freezes the life at my heart, Or what wad mak her weel again.

Is nought to my pains frae thee, oh! But did na Jeanie's heart loup light,

The wan moon is setting behind the white And did na joy blink in her ee,

wave, As Robie tauld a tale o love

And time is setting with me, oh! Ae e'enin on the lily lea ?

False friends, false love, farewell! for mair The sun was sinking in the west,

I'll ne'er trouble them, nor thee, oh!” The birds sang sweet in ilka grove; She has open'd the door, she has open'd it His cheek to hers he fondly prest,

wide; And whisper'd thus his tale o' love:

She sees his pale corse on the plain, oh! “Oh Jeanie fair, I loe thee dear;

“My true love !" she cried, and sank down Oh, canst thou think to fancy me;

by his side, Or wilt thou leave thy mammie's cot,

Never to rise again, oh!
And learn to tent the farmıs wi' me ?
At barn or byre thou shalt na drudge,
Or naething else to trouble thee;

Young Jessie.
But stray amang the heather-bells,
And tent the waving corn wi' me."

TUNE-Bonnie Dundes.
Now what could artless Jeanie do? | TRUE hearted was he, the sad swain oʻthe
She had nae will to say him na;

Yarrow,

[the Ayr, At length she blush'd a sweet consent, And fair are the maids on the banks of And love was aye between them twa. But by the sweet side o' the Nith's winding

river,

Are lovers as faithful, and maidens as fair: Meg of the Mill.

To equal young Jessie seek Scotland all over ;

1 To equal young Jessie you seek it in vain : AIR-Oh Bonnie Lass will you lie in a Barrack? Grace, beauty, and elegance fetter her lover, Oh ken ye wha Meg o’the Mill has gotten? And maidenly modesty fixes the chain. And ken ye what Meg o' the Mill has Oh, fresh is the rose in the cay dewy gotten ?

morning, She has gotten a coof wi' a claut o'siller,

I And sweet is the lily at evening close; And broken the heart o' the barley Miller. But in the fair presence o lovely young The Miller was strappin', the Miller was Jessie ruddy;

Unseen is the lily, unheeded the rose. A heart like a lord, and a hue like a lady: Love sits in her smile, a wizard ensnaring: The Laird was a widdiefu’, bleerit knurl; Enthron'd in her een he delivers his law; She's left the guidfellow and taen the churl. | And still to her charms she alone is a

stranger The Miller he hecht her a heart leal and

Her modest demeanour's the jewel of a'! loving;

[moving, The Laird did address her wi' matter more A fine pacing horse wi' a clear chained bridle, A whip by her side, and a bonnie side-saddle.

Idown minding Flills I did Wander. Oh wae on the siller, it is sae prevailing!

TUNE--The Mucking o' Geordie's Byre. And wae on the love that is fixed on a mailen! A tocher's nae word in a true lover's parle, ADOwn winding Nith I did wander, But gie me my love, and a fig for the warl ! | To mark the sweet flowers as they spring

Adown winding Nith I did wander,

Of Phillis to muse and to sing.
Oprn the Door to Mr, ah!

CHORUS. “Oh! open the door, some pity to show, Awa wi' your belles and your beauties,

Oh! open the door to me, oh! [true, They never wi' her can compare; Tho' thou hast been false, I'll ever prove Whaever has met wi' my Phillis, Oh! open the door to me, oh!

Has met wi' the queen a' the fair..

The daisy amus'd my fond fancy,

In each bird's careless song, So artless, so simple, so wild;

Glad did I share; Thou emblem, said i, o' my Phillis,

While yon wild flowers among, For she is simplicity's child.

Chance led me there;

Sweet to the opening day, The rose-bud's the blush o' my charmer,

Rosebuds bent the dewy spray; Her sweet balmy lip when 'tis prest:

Such thy bloom ! did I say, How fair and how pure is the lily,

Phillis the fair. But fairer and purer her breast.

Down in a shady walk, Yon knot of gay flowers in the arbour,

Doves cooing were;
They ne'er wi' my Phillis can vie :

I mark'd the cruel hawk
Her breath is the breath o' the woodbine, Caught in a snare;
It's dew-drop o' diamond her eye.

So kind may fortune be,

Such make his destiny, Her voice is the song of the morning,

He who would injure thee, That wakes thro'the green-spreading grove,

Phillis the fair.
When Phoebus peeps over the mountains,

On music, and pleasure, and love.
But, beauty, how frail and how fleeting-

Bu Allan štream I rhanr'to Raur.
The bloom of a fine summer's day!
While worth in the mind o' my Phillis

TUNE-Allan Water. Will flourish without a decay.

By Allan stream I chanc'd to rove,

While Phæbus sank beyond Benleddi; (366) The winds were whispering thro' the grove,

The yellow corn was waving ready:

I listen'd to a lover's sang,
Dal I a Cavr. (364)

And thought on youthfu' pleasures mony;
TUNE--Robin Adair.

And aye the wild-wood echoes rang

1 Oh, dearly do I love thee, Annie! HAD I a cave on some wild distant shore, Oh, happy be the woodbine bower, Where the winds howl to the waves' dashing Nae nightly bogle make it eerie; roar;

Nor ever sorrow stain the hour, There would I weep my woes,

The place and time I met my dearie! There seek my lost repose,

Her head upon my throbbing breast, Till grief my eyes should close,

She, sinking, said, “ I'm thine for ever!" Ne'er to wake more !

While mony a kiss the seal iinprest, Falsest of womankind, canst thou declare,

The sacred vow, we ne'er should sever. All thy fond-plighted vows-fleeting as air! |

air! The haunt o'spring's the primrose brae, To thy new lover hie,

The simmer joys the flocks to follow; Laugh o'er thy perjury;

How cheery thro' her shortening day,
Then in thy bosom try

Is autumn in her weeds o’yellow!
What peace is there!

But can they melt the glowing heart,

Or chain the soul in speechless pleasure ? Or thro' each nerve the rapture dart,

Like meeting her, our bosom's treasure ?

DC

Phillis the Fair. (365)

TUNE-Robin Adair. While larks with the wing,

Fann'd the pure air,
Tasting the breathing spring,

Forth I did fare;
Gay the sun's golden eye,
Peep'd o'er the mountains high;
Such thy morn! did I cry,

Phillis the fair.

Come let me take Thre to my Breast.

AIR--Cauld Kail.
COME, let me take thee to my breast,

And pledge we ne'er shall sunder ;
And I shall spurn as vilest dust

The warld's wealth and grandeur:
And do I hear my Jeanie own

That equal transports move her ?
I ask for dearest life alone

That I may live to love her.

BEHOLD THE HOUR.